Free Thomas & Charlotte Pitt 29 - Death On Blackheath by Anne Perry Page A

quite fundamentally. It is my duty to report these to Special Branch so you may act as you believe appropriate in the interests both of the state, and of justice.
I shall be in my office in the morgue for the rest of the day, and at your service.
Yours sincerely,
George Whistler, MD

    Pitt obeyed the summons immediately. His first thought was that Whistler had found some way of being certain that the body was indeed Kitty Ryder, and her death was murder, and connected to the Kynaston house.
    There was nothing to keep him at Lisson Grove. The matters in hand were all routine and very capably handled by others. He informed the appropriate people where he was going. Fifteen minutes later he was in a hansom on the long, traffic-clogged journey first to the river, across Westminster Bridge, then eastwards to Greenwich and the morgue. He was cold and uncomfortable in the hansom. He had several miles to cover, and the ice on the roads made the journey even slower than usual.
    Finally he stood in Whistler’s office. His coat was on the stand by the door and the warmth slowly seeping back into him, thawing out his hands and allowing his tense shoulders to ease a little.
    Whistler had lost the slightly aggressive air he had had earlier. In fact he looked distinctly unhappy, as if he did not know how to begin.
    ‘Well?’ Pitt prompted him.
    Whistler was also standing, but closer to the fire. He pushed his hands hard into his trouser pockets. ‘Rather a lot of things, I’m afraid,’ he replied. ‘On more detailed examination of the body, it became apparent that she had died considerably earlier than I had thought from the degree of decay …’
    Pitt was confused. ‘Don’t you tell the time a person has been dead from the degree of decay?’
    ‘Will you let me finish?’ Whistler snapped, his temper fraying at the first touch.
    Pitt realised with a jolt that the man was more than merely annoyed with himself for having to alter his diagnosis. Something was disturbing him more deeply, even brushing him with a kind of dread.
    Whistler cleared his throat. ‘Bitterly cold temperatures, below freezing, can delay the process greatly, even put it off altogether, if they persist without break. This is why people keep ice houses for meat storage.’ He hesitated, but Pitt did not interrupt again.
    ‘This body was kept at or below freezing for some time, and the decay was slight. But she was not kept at the place where we found her. In fact she was not in the open at all, or scavenging animals would have got to her – at the very least, insects would have. Therefore she was in a very cold and completely enclosed place. Do you follow me so far?’
    ‘You mean such as in somebody’s ice house?’ Pitt prompted.
    ‘Precisely. We already know from witnesses that she was not where we found her, because it is close to a public footpath, used very infrequently, particularly at this time of year, but all the same, still used, and by people with dogs. I had assumed she had been placed there during that night – moved from wherever she was killed perhaps a day or two before, even a week.’ Whistler was watching Pitt closely. ‘It seemed to make sense that possibly someone killed her, in an unplanned attack, and then had to consider how to dispose of her body. It took him a few days to find a way of getting her up to the gravel pit unseen, and considering the circumstances, without anyone else’s assistance.’
    ‘A reasonable assumption,’ Pitt agreed. ‘No longer tenable?’
    Whistler grunted and let his breath out between his teeth. ‘I examined the body very closely for the cause of death. While doing so I realised that the decay was much further advanced than I had supposed from the exterior. She had been kept somewhere extremely cold and …’ he took a deep breath before continuing, ‘… and she had been cleaned up quite a lot after the injuries that caused her death …’
    ‘What?’
    Whistler glared at him. ‘You heard me